


You fool!

by rimz08



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:11:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rimz08/pseuds/rimz08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Athos has something to tell us". Spoilers for the whole series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You fool!

**Author's Note:**

> I know, so much has been written about this, but I had to put in my two cents' worth.  
> I am getting on with my other fics as well. Just crazy busy at work right now. I promise to update them all soon! Thank you to all my lovely readers. I love your reviews!

"No!" says Athos firmly, for the fifth time.

D'Artagnan is enjoying the feeling of the sun's rays caressing his body as he lies on the warm grass outside the convent. His eyes are closed, good hand flung over his face, as he soaks in the sunshine. He's had to wheedle and moan, beg and complain until they finally brought him outside, but it was all worth it, to feel the fresh air and the sun. However, the conversation is not progressing well.

"You have yet to suggest a better plan," d'Artagnan retorts.

"Better than what?" asks Porthos, dropping down to the grass. "I'm exhausted. Repairs are hard work."

"Which is why, my dear friend, you are a musketeer and not a builder," chimes in Aramis, joining them with a bottle of wine and some cheese and bread. "It is time for lunch!"

"Hmmph." Snorts Porthos. "So, what plan were you two hatching?"

"No plan!" exclaims Athos.

"For trapping Milady," d'Artagnan explains, rolling his head to the side to give Athos a withering look. The older man returns it with interest.

"Do tell," Aramis suggests.

"I find her, I kill her. End of story." Athos states grimly.

"And that helps the queen how? We need the cardinal as well. Or were you planning on her giving you a signed confession before you slit her throat?" asks d'Artagnan, snidely.

"You are making me regret saving your life," the older man complains, taking a long swig of wine.

"You didn’t. I did," Aramis smiles widely. "And I happen to agree with our Gascon."

"Just wait until you hear his plan. You won't then. It's just going to make more work for you!" Athos throws up his hands in despair.

"Come on then boy, out with it," says Porthos, "the suspense is killing me."

"What she wants is to destroy Athos, remove him from his friends, right?" asks d'Artagnan. The others nod in agreement. "She's also been trying to seduce me to join her and the cardinal, right?" Again, two heads nod, their mouths chewing the fresh bread the nuns baked that morning. "So we give her what she wants."

"And how do we do that exactly?" Porthos inquires through a mouthful of food.

When Athos had told him and Aramis what had happened between his wife and d'Artagnan, in hushed tones while the young man slept, they had secretly expected it would drive a wedge between the two friends, however much Athos might deny it. They are both familiar with his temper and sense of honor. But with the passing days they have seen the friendship between the two men flourish to even greater heights as Athos nursed d'Artagnan back to health, physically and emotionally. It seems that she might have even drawn them closer together.

"Well…" d'Artagnan begins, "it will have to work like this…"

 

"Of course the biggest problem will be staging it all. I mean, how do we get your wife to just happen to be walking down the street when you drunkenly stumble upon her and we are all in calling distance? A bit contrived don't you think?" Porthos is saying.

"Well Athos will just have to wander the streets drunk every night until it works. Oh…wait…no change there then!" Aramis chuckles, eliciting a death stare from his friend.

They are still thrashing it out an hour later when the three of them notice that d'Artagnan's eyes are drifting closed and his sentences are becoming non-sensical.

Athos nudges him gently and helps him to sit up as he winces in pain. "Come on. These two layabouts have work to do and you need to get back to bed. It's starting to get cold and you'll catch a chill."

"We could swap tasks you know," suggests Aramis.

"Yep," Porthos smiles eagerly, "you do some building work and we'll look after him."

"Or not…." says Aramis, seeing the look on Athos' face. "Come on then my friend, I'm sure the sisters will reward us with a good drink at the end of this."

Athos slings d'Artagnan's good arm over his shoulders and helps him back to the convent, where he tucks him into bed like a child.

Sleepily, the young man grabs at his hand. "I know what I'm suggesting Athos. I'm not stupid. A shot to the arm won't be so bad. Just a graze. Like this one. The one in the chest hurts much more."

"I can't do it," Athos murmurs softly. "I can't hurt you. I can't see you hurt. Not again. And not because of me."

"I want to do this for you. I need to…" d'Artagnan pleads.

"You owe me nothing," Athos tells him. "Hush now. Calm yourself and rest. Just give me a little more time to think it over. I will consider it," the older man pushes the hair out of his friend's face, stroking it softly until d'Artagnan drifts off to sleep.

 

 

Back in Paris, Athos remains unconvinced, but goes along with their plotting and planning, hoping that a different opportunity will present itself before they go through with this madness.

"Tell me I am a wonder," instructs Aramis, strutting into the garrison early one morning.

"You are a wonder. What have you done?" asks d'Artagnan, looking up from his baguette.

"Found her dressmaker! She lives not far from here! And worked my way into her confidence! Now we will know when she orders a new dress!" he exclaims with glee, bowing low before them.

"And why are so worried about her wardrobe?" Porthos asks.

Aramis, still smiling broadly, claps him on the back, "Because my friend, my new lady friend will tell us when she is due to have a fitting. We will make sure it is an evening appointment. Athos will lie in wait, pretending to be drunk, and as she makes her way there he will have the perfect opportunity. We will be ready and waiting and it won't seem strange that word will reach us quickly of the encounter. It's perfect." He rubs his hands together eagerly. "Now we just have to practice. How I love theatre! I'll direct. Porthos, you can play the lady."

"No way! I'm too tall. You be the woman!" the other man objects.

"This isn't funny!" shouts Athos, before storming off out of the garrison.

D'Artagnan holds his two friends back. "Don't worry," he tells them. "I'll deal with this."

 

He finds him down by the River Seine, throwing pebbles into the water, watching the ripples on the surface. He doesn't have to say anything for Athos to know he is there, so attuned they are to each other's presence these days, bound by guilt and grief, love and brotherhood.

"I don't want you to do this," Athos says flatly. "She already took one brother from me. I don't want to lose another."

"If there were any other way…but there isn't and you know it. And I promise not to die."

"You can't promise any such thing. What if I miss? I could never live with myself. I could never forgive myself," Athos shakes his head.

"Just as I cannot forgive myself for what I did?" d'Artagnan asks.

"But there is nothing to forgive!" Athos retorts, rounding on him.

"Precisely! The same is true of this matter. We are soldiers, Athos, in the service of our king and queen. This is just another mission. And it must be carried out."

Athos looks between his friend and the water and is silent for a number of minutes. Finally, he nods in ascent.

"Well then," he says finally, "I suppose we had better practice. I wouldn't want to miss now, would I? Which arm do you prefer? The same one again?"

 

 

"Any news from your dressmaker?" becomes the question Aramis most fears hearing. He has been faithfully visiting her for two months now with no news. Not only is he growing bored, but his friends' nerves are fraying. He worries that should Milady not need a new dress soon, everything will be lost.

Then finally the day comes. He bursts into the garrison looking for them, inclining his head towards Treville's office and they all join him there.

He only needs to say one word: "Tonight."

 

 

They've practiced so many times, with so many variables, yet somehow the angle is off. He knows it and he wants to pull back, to move his gun, or to call it off altogether, but the steel in d'Artagnan's eyes, the look of shock and horror on her face and the almost imperceptible nod from Aramis urge him on and he pulls the trigger, releasing the musket ball into his friend's side.

"You fool!" he screams out. He is a fool, he got the shot wrong. D'Artagnan is a fool for this whole plan, for moving slightly the wrong way, and now that fool is lying on the floor in a pool of blood and he has to pretend he doesn't care. He wants to be sick, but he can't, he has to stay strong, to follow this through to the end. So he lets himself be pulled away, let's himself listen as they tell her they want nothing to do with him, watches as she calls for a carriage and then takes his bleeding friend away. Once they are gone, he can collapse into a heap, tears rolling down in his face, waiting in a silent vigil for tomorrow to come to hear that he lives.

And he may joke about it the next day, but his fear is still very real, and when everything has been arranged he forces d'Artagnan down into a chair and pulls up his shirt to examine the wound himself, to face it straight on. And he makes himself watch as Aramis checks it over. And only after his friend has gone does he vomit outside Treville's office.

He won't be calm until it has healed, until the danger of fever has passed. He won't be quiet until d'Artagnan is back with them, where he belongs.

 

 

 


End file.
